


Things That Shine

by FireflysLove



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflysLove/pseuds/FireflysLove
Summary: A story of two girls and some magic talking horses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was rereading Arrows lately, and these two jumped into my mind fully formed. Prepare for some Rampant Lifebond-trope Abuse, because if I'm going to write a Valdemar fic, I might as well go whole hog, imo, lol.
> 
> This is set sometime between Vanyel and Talia, I figure right about smack in the middle.

They’re eight and standing back to back. The sun is setting fast in the west, and they can hear the wolves moving in the forest. Neither of them will move until the other does. The taller one, fair hair turned a strange shade by the encroaching darkness grabs the other’s hand.

“We have to run,” she says.

The shorter gulps and nods, and then they both bolt, running through the forest as if hellhounds were chasing them. Their gathering baskets thump against their backs, and their skirts catch on every passing twig, tearing small holes.

The blonde trips and stumble, catching herself against a tree. The other slows.

“Go!” the blonde shouts, regaining control of her feet and pelting off again.

A wolf howls in the distance.

Suddenly, they’re free of the woods, into the fields surrounding their village. The stubble left from the harvest brushing their booted feet as they cross the field. The village of Larkby is in a large clearing deep in the Pelagir Hills, on the far western edges of Valdemar. The palisades around the huts of the village protect it from the dangers of the Pelagiris Forest, natural and magical both. It is toward that palisade that the girls run. The gate in the center is almost completely closed, a human figure standing in the small opening, holding a torch in an attempt to see in the gathering darkness.

Something crashes through the underbrush behind the girls, and there’s a canine yelp as whatever made the crash takes down a wolf. The man standing at the gate shouts something, but the blood rushing through the girls’ ears makes it impossible for them to hear.

The shorter one, a good dozen yards ahead of her friend, reaches the gate first and slips through, stumbling a few steps before stopping, struggling to catch her breath. Moments later, the second girl bursts into the village proper, and the man with the torch slams the gate closed behind her.

A woman storms out of a cottage across the square from the gate and takes the blonde-haired girl in hand.

“You were supposed to be back a candlemark ago!” she shouts.

The girl mumbles something incoherent between gasps and her mother rolls her eyes.

“Playing at Herald again, were you?” she asks.

The girl nods sheepishly.

Her mother shakes her head. It’s a conversation they’ve had at least once a week for the last three years, and it’s no use fighting about it this time. The other girl’s mother has a similar conversation with her daughter. Their gathering baskets are taken from them, filled with the last of the season’s berries and mushrooms, the contents will be stored against the quickly approaching winter.

 

They’re eleven, it’s high summer, and they’re at the river beating the dirt out of their clothes with the rest of the village women. Laundry day is always a big production, with nearly every stitch of fabric in the village gathered and moved en masse to the river for washing. No one travels alone in the forest if they can help it; the wolves have been particularly active since the lean winter just past, and Jeren the woodcutter claims to have seen a pack of _wyrsa._ The bushes for a hundred yards in every direction are covered in drying clothing and linens. The river fairly froths with soap suds. The girls finish the last of their assigned piles of clothes and ask their mothers for permission to go play in the meadow just at the forest’s edge.

They are granted permission, and run off. Today, the blonde girl plays the Herald and the brunette her Companion.

 

They’re almost thirteen, and it’s Harvest Faire. Larkby is hosting this year, the duty passes amongst the villages in this part of the Pelagiris. The girls are looking at ribbons on display by a peddler when the blonde feels a snuffling heat at the back of her neck.

The entire Faire goes quiet around them and they turn slowly to look at the shining white shape that has closed in behind them. The blonde girl feels her hand shaking as she looks up and into the depthless blue eyes. She falls into them, surrounded by warmth, cheer, and love.

: _Hello, Adair,_ : a male voice says in her head. : _My name is Anders, and I Choose you._ :

Adair flings her hands around Anders’ neck and hugs him tightly.

A commotion spreads through the Faire, and people start clapping. Adair’s parents are brought forward, and Adair is plied with gifts. She can tell that Anders is eager to be off, but he gives her a few candlemarks to gather a change of clothes, some food, and say goodbye to her family and friends.

The brunette girl puts a smile on, but Adair can tell something is wrong, there’s just no time to talk it out. They hug, and Anders approaches, scuffing his hooves on the packed dirt. The brunette girl backs away, eyes widening.

“She’s afraid of horses,” Adair murmurs, and Anders backs off a bit.

Minutes later, and Adair is in the saddle.

“Stay safe! Keep to the road in the forest!” her mother says.

“I’ll write every day!” Adair says back, and then Anders gathers himself and trots off out of town and down the road.


	2. Chapter 2

Adair passes her thirteenth birthday in a little hamlet halfway between Larkby and Haven. The Guard outpost there resupplies her with food and fresh socks. It’s been six days since they left Larkby and according to Anders, it will be another six before they reach Haven. Adair’s legs are getting used to riding all the time, and she’s practically drinking up all the attention they get whenever they enter a town. People always seem to be happy to see a newly-Chosen child and her Companion, so neither of them have been lacking in food and treats.

The novelty of life on the road is beginning to wear off by the eighth day.

“I miss home,” she says to the fire in the Waystation.

: _You’ll like the Collegium,_ : Anders says.

“I know,” Adair says. She still hasn’t gotten the hang of speaking only with her mind. “But it’ll never be the same.”

: _You can visit some time, and they can visit you_ ,: Anders says.

Adair doesn’t reply.

They reach Haven in the middle of its Harvest Faire. Adair has been to Haven, once. Three years ago, her grandfather had had to travel to the House of Healing at the Collegium, so the entire family had come, as it was the deep of winter, and the journey was dangerous for a man of his age. Even so, Adair was not prepared for the sheer amount of _people_ who populated the city.

: _There’s more than normal because of the Faire,_ : Anders says as he picks his way through the crowd. They don’t even glance at the Companion, too focused on their revelry.

“There’s so _many_!” Adair says. “Where do they all come from?”

: _A long way away in some cases_.:

Anders wends his way through the city and Adair drinks in the sights and sounds and smells. They pass by several guards who wave them on. The crowds thin considerably at the wall to the Old City, where the nobility have their great houses, and Adair can hear the ringing of Anders’ hooves on the pavement.

When they reach the Palace-Collegium complex itself, the hustle and bustle picks up again. People come from six different directions to take charge of Adair and Anders.

A young woman in Whites comes up to her left stirrup to help her down.

“I’m Herald Ilda,” the woman says. “You’re Adair?”

Adair nods, and takes Ilda’s hand. She lands stiffly on the ground.

“Someone will bring your things to your room,” she says. “And Anders will be taken care of, so you don’t need to worry about him.”

: _Mmmm…. Hot mash!_ : Anders supplies helpfully.

Adair giggles nervously.

“Come this way,” Ilda says and starts off toward the building. “This is Herald’s Collegium,” she says, gesturing as they enter. “I’ll have someone give you a tour of the whole complex tomorrow, but since it’s already mid-afternoon, I’ll just take you straight to the Housekeeper and get you kitted out, then take you to your room.”

Adair is trying to take everything in, but Ilda hurries her along until they come to an open door.

“Heyla, Sella,” Ilda says. “This is Anders’ Chosen, Adair.” Ilda pushes Adair into the room.

The walls are all lined with shelves filled with neatly labeled boxes. In the middle sits a desk with a tall woman behind it. She is in her late middle years, iron-grey hair pulled severely into a tight bun at the back of her head. She regards Adair with dark imposing eyes.

“Size nine, I think,” she says, finally, going to a box and pulling out a bundle of grey cloth. “Do you prefer skirts or breeches, child?”

“Skirts,” Adair says softly.

“Hmph,” Sella says, then hands Adair the bundle. “Put this on, there’s a screen over there.”

Adair goes behind the screen and pulls on the clothes. The tunic is a little too big, but everything else seems to fit fine. Unsure of what to do with her boots, she comes back out holding them in one hand and her own clothes in the other.

“Come stand on this,” Sella says, gesturing to a piece of fabric on the floor in front of her. With quick motions, she traces Adair’s feet in chalk. “Keep your boots, we’ll have some made up for you by the end of the week. The rest of your clothes will be washed and returned to you in your room by about the same time. It all fits fine?” Adair nods. “Good. I’ll send the rest of your Greys to your room too. Now off with you.”

Ilda and Adair leave the room, Adair feeling like she’s just been through a windstorm.

“Your room’s right this way,” Ilda says, turning down another corridor. “There are six in your year, and we think one more will be joining in the next week. Three girls and three boys.”

They arrive at a closed door with a metal plate on it. Ilda slides a card into the plate with Adair’s name on it and opens the door. A bed, a desk, a dresser, a nightstand, a chest, and a cloakstand wait for her inside. The walls have all been whitewashed recently, and the furniture smells like fresh polish. There is a stack of folded linens at the foot of the bed, and the contents of Anders’ saddlebags is on the desk.

“I’ll leave you alone for a little while to get settled in,” Ilda says. “I’ll be back right before dinner. The washroom is just down the hall if you need it.”

She leaves the room and closes the door behind her. Adair feels suddenly very alone in the room, the white walls making the space seem huge and the lack of any personal touches making it seem stark. She quickly gets to work dressing the bed, and arranges the few knickknacks she had brought on top of the dresser.

“I’ll have to ask about getting something for the walls,” she says out loud to herself.

_:Tapestries,_ : Anders says, surprising her.

“What?”

_:You want some tapestries_ ,: he repeats. : _Especially for the winter_.:

“Where in the world would I get those?” Adair asks.

_:Oh, you’ll find out,:_ Anders says cryptically.

Ilda comes back just as she said she would, and Adair finds herself on another whirlwind, the amazing (to her eyes) washroom, the dining hall, the sheer amount of _food_.

Ilda directs her to some of her yearmates. She sits down next to them, and they engage her in conversation about Larkby and her family, and she feels a little less out of place.

By the time she gets back to her room, she’s well and thoroughly exhausted and ready for bed. She finds the promised stacks of Greys on her bed and puts them away before pulling on a nightdress and climbing into bed.

The last thing she does before extinguishing the candle is to wish Anders a goodnight.

Adair lies in the darkness for a long while, listening to the sounds of the Collegium around her slowly quiet down and settle into a night routine. It’s much noisier here than it ever was in Larkby, and she thinks of her friend, and how much the girl would love it here, surrounded by all the new things and new people.

The last thought she has that night is of her friend, a brunette-haired shape disappearing into a dark forest.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, if you're into Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, or cats, here's my [tumblr](http://fireflyslove.tumblr.com).


End file.
